An Angel for Emily Read online

  “I’m trying to help him find out the truth,” she managed to say. “He’s innocent.”

  “Of course he is,” Donald said. “There isn’t a guilty man in prison.”

  Emily did seem to have a bit of a spine because she glared up at him. “If that’s the way you’re going to listen, I’m not going to tell you anything.”

  With an elaborate gesture worthy of the worst ham actor, Donald took a seat across from her. “Forgive me for my anger,” he said, “but I have been standing outside a hospital for two days trying to find out if the mayor of the city was alive or not. But then, you wouldn’t know about that, would you? No, of course not. You and….” He sneered toward the closed bedroom door. “The two of you have been too busy socializing with all of Greenbriar to hear about the mayor. So now, will you tell me why this man is living in your apartment? Why do you refer to it as ‘home’ as though it were his home?”

  Emily wanted to ask if the mayor was all right, but she couldn’t as that would confirm Donald’s worst thoughts. And with a glance about her apartment, it was easy to see why Donald guessed that Michael had been living there for days. His freshly ironed shirts were hanging on the knob to the linen closet; a pair of his shoes were in front of the couch; on the table near the door were three worn Sports Illustrateds, plus the contents from his pockets.

  “We are researching to find out who the real culprit is,” she said weakly, looking down at her hands. When Donald didn’t say anything, she looked up at him. His face was so full of rage that it made shivers run down her spine. “Like I help you find out things,” she said. “You’ve always told me that I’m good at research so I…I’m helping him find out who the real criminal is.”

  “Are you in love with him?” Donald asked coldly.

  “No, of course not,” she said quickly. “He’s just a…a, well, a friend.”

  “You don’t usually allow friends to live with you.”

  Suddenly, Emily had the oddest thought: Why doesn’t he leave? Wouldn’t most men who found another man living with their fiancée throw a fit and leave? “And you believe him?” Donald asked into the silence. “You believe whatever lie he’s concocted and in return you feed him, give him a place to live and even introduce him around town? Is that right?”

  “It’s not what it seems,” she said softly. “He….” She raised her head. “He’s lost his memory and doesn’t know anything. Actually, he’s aphasic.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Aphasic. He’s lost certain parts of his memory, like what foods he likes and how to buy clothes and how to get a job and an apartment.”

  Donald’s look was making her slow down.

  “He knows nothing,” she said, giving Donald what she hoped was a conciliatory smile. “Really, the man can’t figure out buttons without help.”

  Donald didn’t bother answering her but stood, picked up his jacket from across a chair, then looked down at her. “Emily, one thing a journalist learns is to sniff out lies, and right now, all you’re telling me is one lie after another. I don’t know what’s going on here. For all I know, he may be blackmailing you, or threatening you with bodily harm, but if you don’t let me help you, I can’t.”

  When he started putting on his jacket, Emily jumped up from the chair. “Donald, I’m sorry, really I am. I’m trying to explain something that I don’t understand myself. If you’ll just bear with me I—”

  “You’ll what?” he said, glaring down at her. “Make up your mind between us? Decide whether you want me, someone you’ve known for years, or whether you want him, a known criminal you’ve known for a week? Is that what I’m supposed to bear with?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t seem to understand anything right now. My life is so confused.”

  “Well, let me make it easy for you. It’s either him or me,” he said softly, then walked out the door.

  Chapter 13

  TWO MINUTES AFTER DONALD LEFT, MICHAEL WALKED out of the bedroom. He had on a pair of trousers and a shirt that was hanging out and unbuttoned. From the look of him, he now understood what demon rum meant.

  “Not a word,” Emily said in warning, not looking at him. “I don’t want to hear a word from you. I just want you to pack your bags and get out. Now.”

  Michael sat down on a chair across from her. “I don’t have any bags. Unless you mean the kind we get groceries in.”

  She gave him a quick, malevolent look, meaning to show him that she hated him. But there were circles under his eyes and his face seemed to be longer than it usually was. “Good,” she said. “I’m glad you feel rotten. You deserve it. You are ruining my life.”

  Michael ran his hands over his face. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have a life,” he said softly.

  “And what is that supposed to mean? I had a perfectly good life until you arrived and I will once again as soon as you leave.”

  “You can lie to anyone except me. You were as lonely as anyone on this planet until I showed up. Is there anything I can do for this man’s head? And this stomach hurts too.”

  With as much haughtiness as she could muster, she stood. “I want you out of here within the hour.” Then, still trying to keep control of herself, she went out onto the deck and sat down on a chair and waited, her hands across her chest.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there but she heard the shower running, then there was a quiet time when she knew that Michael was shaving. She was not, under any circumstances, going to think about what he had said about her loneliness or how her life was going to be after he moved out.

  After a while, she heard him in the kitchen, then moments later, he came onto the deck, took the chair next to her and put something on the little table that stood between them. She wasn’t going to look at him or whatever he had put down.

  “I brought you tea,” he said softly. “With milk the way you like it and some of those buttery things we got yesterday. What do you call them?”

  “Croissants,” she said, her mouth rigid. “Are you packed?”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  At that she turned to glare at him. He was clean now and his jaws looked almost raw from his shave, but his eyes held not only pain from the hangover but some sadness that she did not want to acknowledge.

  “If you don’t leave, I’m going to turn you over to the police.”

  “No you aren’t,” he said smoothly as he picked up his mug and began to sip his tea. “Emily, I know you don’t want to admit to yourself who or what I am, but that doesn’t change me. I’m an angel. No…I’m your angel and I know what you want better than you do. Right now you’re confused. You seem to want both of us, me and that man, and you can’t make up your mind which of us you want more.”

  At his words of truth, some of the fight went out of her. “If you aren’t an angel, you’re a criminal. Either way, you aren’t the man I…I need.”

  “I know that,” he said softly, then looked at her with eyes so full of pain that she looked away. “I know that more than you do. Once I find out what evil is around you, I’ll be taken away. For all I know, you won’t even remember me.” Pausing, he took a sip of his tea. “But now I’ve found the evil.”

  “So tell me, I’m dying to hear. Was it gambling, whiskey or men punching each other in the face?”

  “It’s Donald.”

  At that Emily’s bad mood broke and she started to laugh. “This is your best one yet. At least Donald has a reason to be angry since I’m engaged to him, but you and your jealousy are the stupidest—”

  “He brought it with him.”

  “Oh right,” she said, glaring at him. “Have it in his back pocket, did he? Or maybe he carries evil in his briefcase.”

  “I didn’t say your beloved Donald is evil, I said that it came with him. The evil has something to do with him. It’s through him that the bomb was put under your car.”

  “Might I remind you that the bomb had to do with you.”

  “No i